


You win or you die: A lesson about the Game.

by W12_Supernatural



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Americanos (whats west of westeros) freeform, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24439870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/W12_Supernatural/pseuds/W12_Supernatural
Summary: The Westerosi aren't the only ones who play the Game of Thrones. They may have forgotten about their Western Neighbors, but the Americanosi can play the Game, too.In the Styr, a duplicitous lord attempts to take the throne for himself as an ancient enemy begins its attacks yet again.In the Valley and Estenhaal, two soon to be allied houses consolidate their powerIn the Easterlands, war begins in the south just as the ruling house tries to make its move for its future.In the Cooperlands, the Barrel Kings get set to destroy an ancient foe with the help of a mole within.And in the Sutherlands, they finish off one war only to be involved another,  one even more brutal than the last, one more brutal than any previous wars.When you play the Game of Thrones, you win or you die. These great Houses will learn that lesson very soon.
Relationships: To Be Decided





	You win or you die: A lesson about the Game.

Clad in the traditional deep grey armor of the Blackguard, with his pale skin, height, and dead grey eyes, Relekan Kesoronov looked like a ghost, Haragon thought. A bloody ghost, what with the man's sigil being a blood red horse as befitting of his nickname, the Bloody Horse. He had a taste for blood, per his brother Swyl, the head of House Kesoronov.

He reminded Haragon of those old ghosts old Varryck would tell of in his stories, of the Others, who could raise the dead as their thralls, of the ancient Wanasov Kings, who ruled before the Andal Invasion and who haunted their enemies like ghosts. Those stories always scared Haragon yet left him wanting more, just one manifested as a Styric knight.

He nodded respectfully as Haragon approached and nodded towards towards the open doors that led to the Lord's solar. "Lord Koselka awaits you."

Haragon snickered to himself. Relekan Kesoronov was so formal it was almost has if someone had stuck an iron pole up his arse and forgot to take it out. "Very well." he entered the solar.

At the end of the solar there was a table with some map markers, and Lord Koselka, a short, wiry man with blonde hair and green eyes, sat, his hair matted and eyes tired. He reminded Haragon of those same ghosts Ser Relekan had reminded him of.

"Ser Haragon," even his voice was tired. "I trust you know why I called you here."

"Yes." Of course Haragon did. His eldest brother had sent him here on the horselord's request for an advisor after hearing uncomfortable whispers to the south. So Haragon had gone to Ofan to meet with Koselka to see what exactly the man needed. Judging by the map markers it couldn't have been good. "You said you needed an advisor and Falahim sent me here."

Koselka gestured to the map. It was a large map of northern Americanos, the Styr, Estenhaal, Valley, Vale, Cooperlands, and Easterlands. The Styr and Cooperlands the only ones with map markers. There was the bolt of House Wanasov and the barrel of House Cooper. The latter one couldn't mean anything good; Wanasovs and Coopers had been fighting and killing each other for thousands of years, and if the Coopers warranted those map markers, then war was on the horizon, as normally skirmishes weren't anything the minor lords couldn't handle. "Take a look at the Greenblood and Presque Isle."

The river that formed the border between the two regions had several barrels, while the isle that was the primary battleground between the two ancient foes had several bolt markers, and Haragon recognized a few Koselka stallions and even the white tree of the Telcontars. "You've called your banners, as it seems Telcontar has too." Haragon remembered Lords Koselka and Telcontar had married each others sisters.

"I have."

"Why?" Normally Wanasov bannermen never called their banners without the High King's say-so, so this was incredibly suspicious, especially when the lord was so willing to admit it.

"I received word that the Coopers are mustering along the south bank of the Greenblood. Nissa's Hills and the Crone's Cemetery are flurries of activity." Koselka sighed. "It would seem they've only one intent."

"Probably" Haragon agreed. But something gnawed at the back of his head. "All the same, have they moved yet?"

Koselka shook his head. "They've not. Yet I mistrust them. Nothing good ever comes of the Coopers mustering along the south bank of the Greenblood."

 _True._ The Koselkas, along with the Briens, dealt with the Cooperlanders more than any other Styric houses. No wonder Lord Koselka was mistrustful. "No," he agreed. "Nothing ever does. Though I'm sure King Cooper feels much the same way about us."

"He does, I know he does." Koselka nodded. "Though I know for a fact he mustered first. I first heard if his mustering a moon ago and I called my banners two weeks past."

Haragon was stunned. "They've been mustering for that long?!"

"Aye, they have." Koselka remained weary. "That's why I've gotten so worried. One whole moon to gather their men, to prepare and to get their intelligence on us."

 _Yikes._ "And yet my brother has yet to call his banners, not even in the slightest." Haragon remembered the mood at Cracovia had been no different, the Cracovians acting as if they were at peace. For once.

"He sent some men to Presque Isle, thats why the bolt is there." Koselka replied. "But I sent a raven to Cracovia last week and while Falahim sent some men, I'm not sure if it was enough."

"How many men did he send?"

"Two hundred." Koselka laughed hollowly. "Only two hundred, plus the five hundred Freelands, defending against as many as seventy thousand Westenmen."

Haragon paled. They were outnumbered potentially by a hundred to one. "It better not come to that." The Wanasovs had never faced such odds before.

"No," Koselka agreed. "But my ancestors have been dealing with Westenland invasions for thousands of years; history is an excellent teacher. And its taught me that Westenmen are always ready to destroy the Styr."

Sighing, Haragon simply nodded. "So why exactly do you need my advice? Seems you have everything under control, no?

"I don't," Koselka replied. He made to stand and went to the window, looking out it. "Mayhaps you can convince your brother to send more men. I need more men to help garrison the southern Styr. I can only raise so many men."

Of course. The Koselkas could raise some ten thousand men, their vassals another five thousand, but that wouldn't be nearly enough, not even for a defensive war. 

"Fair point." Haragon was nervous now. Koselka was genuinely worried about the Coopers marshaling their forces along the south bank of the Greenblood, and the man was not one to worry needlessly. So he stood. "I'll write to Falahim asking for more men. Do you need anything else?" When Koselka simply shook his head and continued to look out the window, Haragon made to leave. "Good talk."

Now that he was alone, Haragon could be worried about Falahim. The man had accepted a betrothal between his heir, Robyn and Seila Sento, an arrangement proposed by Lord Ventis Sento. Haragon remembered the man as a squirrely man, whose eyes did not laugh or smile when his mouth did, always seeming like he was plotting against you. No one with any sense would trust the lord of Paganal. But, Falahim had, seemingly to reward a loyal bannermen, an idea which Haragon thought shaky at best: Sento was always loyal to the Styr ostensibly, but always seemed to be loyal to none save himself.

Ofan remained a hub of activity, being far enough from the Greenblood so that the city could keep its guard down. For now. But his conversation with Koselka had struck a nerve. The Coopers were massing their armies along the Greenblood, and while Coopermen marshaling along the Greenblood was by no means new, the fact that Nathan Koselka of all people was worried that the Coopers may cross that river in full force, with seventy thousand men, made Haragon think that the Coopers would do just that in the near future.

 _Seventy thousand against as it stands, seven hundred. We'll be fucked if they choose to cross now._ _But why would they marshal now?_ Haragon needed to know why exactly House Cooper chose now to muster their armies, in a time when the Styr was ostensibly at peace, its alliance with the Valley of Nokoseov in full swing. The Estenhaal and Easterlands had developed close relations with the Styr and the Styr, Valley, Estenhaal, and Easterlands more intertwined than any four Kingdoms had in all of Americanos, so why would the Coopers muster now? Especially when they had four Kingdoms that would oppose them.

Haragon wrote to Cracovia, of how Nathan needed more men, how the Koselkas had heard whispers of the Coopers mustering their entire strength, seventy thousand men, a number that, while it might not truly destroy the Styr, it might ruin it. It may end up destroying House Wanasov, and there was no way Falahim could let that happen, could he?

Having sent the raven as the sun set over Ofan, Haragon knew that the Coopers mustering their forces could only have one of two effects. Either they meant to launch a full fledged invasion of the Styr, or they meant to lie in wait for a while before launching their invasion.

There was a war coming, and before anyone would know it. Americanos would burn as it had many times before, and the Wanasovs would be at the center of it.

Two days later, as day broke over Ofan as Haragon returned to his guest chambers following some sparring with Koselka men, he found the Bloody Horse standing at the training ground by a rack of swords, clearly looking at him, a disinterested look on his face. He looked like a pale ghost, yet again, and it didn't help Haragon's nerves that the sun had only just risen to the west, making it so Kesoronov was a tall, pale, shadow.

"Lord Koselka wants you in his solar," the pale man said, beckoning for Haragon to follow him. Haragon, though not knowing what it was, could tell it was serious, so he nodded for the man to lead the way.

When he entered the solar ten minutes later it was much like the previous interaction: Nathan sat at his desk, the map markers unmoved from the previous talk. 

"Much the same as last time."

"Aye," Nathan then help up a letter, one that was sealed with wax. Haragon recognized it as the Black Bolt. _Falahim._ He handed the letter to Haragon and motioned for him to open it. "Haven't touched it, think it was meant for you."

Haragon broke the seal and read the letter.

_Haragon_

_As much as I understand your and Lord Nathan's concerns, I cannot be worried about our southern border when I suspect enemies lay within Cracovia itself. I have scouts along the Greenblood myself, waiting to report to me if anything goes wrong, so I worry about the south not._

_I hope all goes well in the south. Teublonf says hello_

_All the best_

_Falahim_

"Read it," he handed Koselka the letter. "See if you like his response."

It took Koselka all of five seconds to read the letter, after which he paled. "So he doesn't think my reports are enough. Damn him."

"Though I worry about what he said about enemies laying within Cracovia. Falahim is many things, but a liar? No. Add in the fact that he was unwilling to send troops to the southern border. It makes me nervous."

"We will be fighting a war on two fronts," Nathan noted. "And history has taught us that two fronted wars are never a good thing for any

**Author's Note:**

> This is a (relatively) original story. I put it in GoT and ASOIAF fandoms because I created Americanos to answer the question of whats west of Westeros


End file.
